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By God my wrath is all forgive.
Therewith her list so well to live,
That dulness was of her adrad,
She n'as too sober ne too glad;
In all thinges more measure
Had never I trowe creature,
But many one with her look she hurt,
And that sat her full little at herte:
For she knew nothing of their

thought,
But whether she knew, or knew it not,
Alway she ne cared for them a stree;?
To get her love no near n'as he
That woned? at home, than he in Inde,
The foremost was alway behinde;
But good folk over all other
She loved as man may his brother,
Of which love she was wonder large,
In skilful places that bear charge:
But what a visage had she thereto,
Alas! my heart is wonder wo
That I not can describen it;
Me lacketh both English and wit
For to undo it at the full.
And eke my spirits be so dull
So great a thing for to devise,
I have not wit that can suffice
To comprehend her beauté,
But thus much I dare saine, that she
Was white, ruddy, fresh, and lifely

hued, And every day her beauty newed. And nigh her face was alderbest ;3 For, certes, Nature had such lest To inake that fair, that truly she Was her chief patron of beauté, And chief example of all her worke And moulter:#for, be it never so derke, Methinks I see her evermo, And yet, moreover, though all tho That ever lived were now alive, Not would have founde to descrive In all her face a wicked sign, – For it was sad, simple, and benign. And such a goodly sweet speech Had that sweet, my life's leech, So friendly, and so well y-grounded Upon all reason, so well founded, And so treatable to all good, That I dare swear well by the rood, Of eloquence was never found So sweet a sounding faconde, Nor truer tongued nor scorned less, Nor bét6 could heal, that, by the Mass Idurst swear, though the Pope it sung, 1 Straw.

4 Monster. 2 Lived.

6 Eloquence. 8 Best of all,

6 Better.

There was never yet through her

tongue Man or woman greatly harmed As for her was all harm hid, No lassie flattering in her worde, That, purely, her simple record Was found as true as any bond, Or truth of any man'es hand. Her throat, as I have now memory, Seemed as a round tower of ivory, Of good greatness, and not too great, And fair white she hete i That was my lady's name right, She was thereto fair and bright, She had not her name wrong, Right fair shoulders, and body long She had, and armes ever lith Fattish, fleshy, not great therewith, Right white hands and nailès red Round breasts, and of good brede 8 Her lippes were; a straight flat back, I knew on her none other lack, That all her limbs were pure snowing In as far as I had knowing. Thereto she could so well play What that her list, that I dare say That was like to torch bright That every man may take of light Enough, and it hath never the less Of manner and of comeliness. Right so fared my lady dear For every wight of her mannere Might catch enough if that he would If he had eyes her to behold For I dare swear well if that she Had among ten thousand be, She would have been at the best, A chief mirror of all the feast Though they had stood in a row To men's eyen that could know, For whereso men had played or

waked, Methought the fellowship as naked Without her, that I saw once As a crown without stones. Truely she was to mine eye The soleino phonix of Araby, For there liveth never but one, Nor such as she ne know I none. To speak of goodness, truely she Had as much debonnairte As ever had Hester in the Bible, And more, if more were possible; And sooth to say therewithal She had a wit so general, 7 Was called.

Sole. A Breadth.

“And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell:
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give,
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.”

WORDSWORTH.

LOVE.

So well inclined to all good
That all her wit was set by the rood,
Without malice, upon gladness,
And thereto I saw never yet a less
Harmful than she was in doing.
I say not that she not had knowing
What harm was, or else she
Had known no good, so thinketh me:
And truly, for to speak of truth
But she had had, it had been ruth,
Therefore she had so much her dell
And I dare say, and swear it well
That Truth himself over all and all
Had chose his manor principal
In her that was his resting place;
Thereto she had the moste grace
To have stedfast perseverance
And easy attempre governance
That ever I knew or wist yet
So pure suffraunt was her wit.

CHAUCER.

Thou art not gone, being gone,

where'er thou art Thou leav'st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy loving heart.

DONNE.

TRUE LOVE.

LUCY.

HREE years she grew in sun and

shower; Then Nature said, “ A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own.

"Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse; and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and

bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.

I THINK not on my father, And these great tears grace his re

membrance more Than those I shed for him. What

was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favor in it, but Ber

tram's. I am undone: there is no living,

none, If Bertram be away. It were all

one, That I should love a bright, particu

lar star, And think to wed it, he is so above

me: In his bright radiance and collateral

light Must I be comforted, not in his

sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues

itself. The hind that would be mated by the

lion Must die for love.

'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and

draw His arched brows, his hawking eye,

his curls, In our heart's table; heart, too capa

ble Of every line and trick of his sweet

favor: But now he's gone, and my idola

trous fancy Must sanctify his relics.

SHAKSPEARE.

“The floating clouds their state shall

lend To her; for her the willow bend: Nor shall she fail to see, Even in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maiden's

form By silent sympathy.

"The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward

round; And beanty, born of murmuring

sound, Shall pass inte her face.

THE QUEEN.

I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE.

I.

To heroism and holiness

How hard it is for man to soar, But how much harder to be less Than what his mistress loves him

for! He does with ease what do he must, Or lose her, and there's nought

debarred From him who's called to meet her

trust, And credit her desired regard. Ah, wasteful woman! she that may On her sweet self set her own

price, Knowing he cannot choose but pay;

How has she cheapened paradise, How given for nought her priceless

gift, How spoiled the bread, and spilled

the wine, Which, spent with due, respective

thrift, Had made brutes men, and men

divine.

My dear and only love, I pray

That little world of thee
Be governed by no other sway

But purest monarchy:
For if confusion have a part,

Which virtuous souls abhor,
And hold a synod in thy heart,

I'll never love thee more.
Like Alexander I will reign,

And I will reign alone:
My thoughts did evermore disdain

A rival on my throne.
He either fears his fate too much,

Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,

To gain or lose it all.
But, if no faithless action stain

Thy love and constant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,

And glorious by my sword.
I'll serve thee in such noble ways

As ne'er was known before;
I'll deck and crown thy head with

bays,
And love thee more and more.

MARQUIS OF MONTROSE.

II.

TO LUCASTA.

TELL me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,

To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,

The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.

ness

O queen! awake to thy renown, Require what 'tis our wealth to

give, And comprehend and wear the crown

Of thy despised prerogative! I who in manhood's name at length

With glad songs come to abdicate The gross regality of strength,

Must yet in this thy praise abate, That through thine erring humble

And disregard of thy degree, Mainly, has man been so much less

Than fits his fellowship with thee. High thoughts had shaped the fool

ish brow, The coward bad grasped the hero's

sword, The vilest had been great, hadst

thou, Just to thyself, been worth's re

ward : But lofty honors undersold

Seller and buyer both disgrace; And favor that makes folly bold Puts out the light in virtue's face.

COVENTRY PATMORE.

Yet this inconstancy is such

As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more.

RICHARD LOVELACE.

APOLOGY FOR HAVING

LOVED BEFORE.

They that never had the use
Of the grape's surprising juice,
To the first delicious cup
All their reason render up:

Neither do, nor care to, know, Whether it be best or no.

Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly as the thing is high,
Bravely as for life and death,
With a loyal gravity.
Lead her from the festive boards;
Point her to the starry skies;
Guard her by your faithful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.

So they that are to love inclined, Sway'd by chance, nor choice or

art, To the first that's fair or kind,

Make a present of their heart: Tis not she that first we love, But whom dying we approve. To man, that was in th' evening

made,
Stars gave the first delight;
Admiring in the gloomy shade

Those little drops of light.
Then, at Aurora, whose fair hand

Removed them from the skies,
Ile gazing toward the east did stand,

She entertained his eyes.
But when the bright sun did appear,

All those he'gan despise;
His wonder was determin’d there.

And could no higher rise.

By your truth she shall be true,
Ever true, as wives of yore,
And her Yes, once said to you,
Shall be Yes for evermore.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

OUTGROWN.

Nay, you wrong her my friend,

she's not fickle; her love she

has simply outgrown: One can read the whole matter,

translating her heart by the light of one's own.

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At Bacchus' feast none shall her

meet,
Nor at no wanton play,
Nor gazing in an open street,
Nor gadding as astray.

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